Warcraft: Official Movie Novelization

She reached out to him, gently touching his face. He closed his eyes and tears, warm and wet, slipped beneath the tightly shut lids. Then, slowly, ready to stop if he did not wish this, Garona began to dig in her nails.

His eyes flew open wide, and in those blue depths Garona saw desire. Lothar reached out, pulled her to him, and pressed his mouth on hers.

And then, there was no pain at all.

16

Day or night, it made no difference. Work continued on building the Great Gate, whether that work was done by sunlight or torchlight, as it was now. Orgrim glanced briefly at the orcs laboring in the flickering firelight, and at the construct that disappeared up into darkness. It was coming along swiftly. It would be ready in time.

There was more on his mind than the portal, though. Before this day’s decisions, his life had seemed simple. Choices had been clear to him. It was Durotan who had always seemed to agonize over the gray shades when, to Orgrim, things were either black or white. But now that he had made his decision, he suddenly understood what his friend had wrestled with. Orgrim now stood beside Gul’dan, who occupied an ornately carved chair on a platform above the gate, supervising the work as ordinary orcs might observe ants.

On Gul’dan’s other side huddled a human slave. It seemed that with his pet Garona turned traitor, the warlock felt the absence of someone crouching at his feet. Garona, though, had never looked like this: pale, emaciated, staring at nothing. Orgrim could count the human’s ribs.

It was not a pleasant sight, so Orgrim looked to the Great Gate. He pointed to the two statues that flanked what would be the portal’s opening. They were representations of the same figure—a tall, too-slender being whose face was hidden by a cowl. “Who is it?”

“Our… benefactor,” Gul’dan said, his voice a rough purr on the word.

Orgrim scoffed in surprise. “A new world in exchange for a statue? Gods are strange creatures.”

Gul’dan chuckled. Ever since he had first arrived at Frostfire Ridge, asking the Frostwolves to join the Horde, Gul’dan had unsettled Orgrim, and never more than when he laughed.

“Frostwolves,” the warlock said. “You are a practical people. Those of us from the south have always admired that about you.” He turned to look down at his slave, smiling with apparent affection. He extended his hand, and both his eye and the tips of his fingers burned bright green. He waved his hand, languidly. A thin, misty trail snaked from the human to Gul’dan’s green-tipped fingers. The human’s eyes widened in terrorized agony, but he made no sound. He began to struggle, weakly, and choke, withering before Orgrim’s gaze. It was as if Gul’dan was literally drinking the creature’s life energy.

He is, thought Orgrim. Spirits help us, he is. He found he had to fight an instinct to flee.

Gul’dan dropped his hand, and the human sagged back, his thin chest heaving.

“When the portal opens,” and Gul’dan’s voice was relaxed, almost dreamy, “and the rest of the Horde joins us, we will gift them the fel. All of them.”

Orgrim’s fists clenched. “Durotan did not agree to this,” he said snapped, angrily.

“And why would you care what that traitor thinks?” Gul’dan’s eyes were radiant with the bright green hue of fel. How much of this thing is still an orc? Orgrim wondered with a surge of horror. When the warlock spoke, his voice was strident, harsh, and biting. “It is time for a new leader of the Frostwolf clan. One who has the best interests of his orcs in mind. One,” and he placed a hand immodestly on his own chest, “who appreciates Gul’dan’s vision. His power!” His green lips stretched in a wide smile, and again extended his hand to the slave, taking another sip of that pathetic creature’s life energy.

“Come,” Gul’dan said, as the human, little more than a skeleton now, drooped, panting. “I will grant you the fel.”

My master is dark and dangerous. Garona had said this to Durotan, to the Frostwolves. Garona, who had arranged for the humans to meet with Durotan. Garona, as green as Gul’dan, but as unlike him as could be imagined.

She had said this, and she had been completely right. Was she—was Durotan—right about allying with the humans against him?

“Durotan, he…” Orgrim struggled to appear sincere, though his heart was pounding. “He has poisoned the Frostwolves against the fel. Let me gather them. Bring them here. Grant me the fel in front of them—let them see how much stronger I become.”

Gul’dan’s eyes narrowed. Orgrim forced himself to project calm, meeting those eyes evenly, even as at the corner of his vision he watched the human gasp for breath. The warlock considered.

“As I said,” Gul’dan said finally, “a practical people. Summon them, then. This is not Draenor, Frostwolf. This is a new dawn! The time of the Horde.”